Monday, July 26, 2010

Today I feel that my mother made things much easier for me. I am confident that I will not invite her to holiday celebrations or birthday parties this year. There has been no twinge of guilt today. And no anger.

We may come together again at some point but the chasm is so wide now that it feels (today) easy.

It is estimated that %3 of the population of the United States is affected by Fragile X Syndrome (it's an estimate because there is the assumption that some people who are affected have yet to be diagnosed). So about 100,000 people. And one of them is a child of mine.

It is estimated that %3 of the population of the United States can be considered geniuses due to their IQ scores (it's an estimate because IQ tests are ridiculous and most intelligent & rational people don't take them). So about 100,000 people. And one of them is a child of mine.

For sure, I think too much. Way too much. And this little statistic has been taking up quite a few rooms in my brain hotel.

Tuesday, July 20, 2010

By the time I get to the garage at work, I am so filled up with rage and hopelessness... Getting up at 5 am is not my favorite. And it's really not my favorite after an unpredictable night of sleeping by my sweet babe. I get in the car half asleep with not nearly enough coffee coursing through my veins and the gerbil starts runnin'.

It starts running and I start thinking about the folks I will invariably encounter at work who I now refer to as "assholes with perfect babies". If I were Mel Gibson, I'd scream into these motherfucker's telephones to SUCK IT. Oh, God. This business with Link has shaken my foundations.

My instinct at work is no longer to help selflessly. It's to play defense. I catch myself and move on... mostly. The other day I called a Dr. a prick in front of his patient and I told family members to GET OUT OF THE ROOM!

Right now, I hate going there. My car basically pulls itself into a parking space and I haul my disgruntled, depressed ass out of it and into the building. I put my scrubs on and i spend the day trying not to cry.

And it is made especially hard when I get driven into my fucking face on a daily basis seemingly typical babies born to heavy smokers, drug addicts, 15 year olds with families who couldn't care less... It's just, sad. I'm sad there almost all the time.

So, anyway, these assholes. All puffed up and ignorant playing a revolting game of "Whoever Makes the Most Drama Wins". Wins what? Certainly not the baby. They're not there for their perfect babies, they're there for the spectacle, to be able to tell the story. And. I . Can't. Take. It.

Pity the nice, loving, devoted-to-the-new-life-about-to-emerge families. This bleeding heart is just about packed up and moved out.

Monday, July 5, 2010

I got into it again at work today with people who for purely cosmetic reasons, think it's cool to cut baby boy's penises. Today it wasn't even close to funny and I'm sure I've earned myself a new label.

Here's the newly minted worldview of mine at work, though (and hey, world wide web, this is a big, hardcore, only said it to myself piece of thought torture. So feel privileged): I was fighting the whole time, the whole time these compassionate, committed healthcare professionals were flippantly discussing slicing off parts of babies... I was fighting the gut wrenching, nagging bitch of a notion that if we had circumcised Lincoln, he wouldn't be different in yet another way than all the "normal" boys in the world.

Saturday, July 3, 2010

So, I hate it when she lies. That's the worst. It's so fucking 1979 and my grandmother being Matriarchal Manipulator all over again. I mean, who the fuck cares ?!?!?! And the lies are dumb, dumb. Lies of exclusion; like she's fucking protecting someone/something but only actually ends up giving her this maddening sense of know-it-all-ness that is so incredibly ridiculous because, hey! Guess what? I ALREADY KNOW.

Yeah, that part of the conversation didn't go very well. Neither did the part where she said she'll try to come over and see the kids now that she knows her grandson has a genetic disorder. REALLY!?! Will you?!?

The part that wasn't so bad? The part where she didn't make it about herself (she did, however, try to make it about my husband... but that's another story). And that's as good as I was hoping it would be. But... it still feels like shit.

Thursday, July 1, 2010

On our way to Las Vegas (and during the 36 hours the hot husband and I were there) last week, I was struck by many, many things. Here are a few (in no particular order):

1. People who own iPads and use them while eating chicken wings are bad, bad people2. Nominees for an Emmy Award in the "Best Actor" in a drama category shouldn't be flying in row 22 of Jet Blue3. Bloody Mary's taste mighty fucking good at 11am4. It is possible to not eat for 24 hours and drink like a fish instead and NOT puke, pass out OR have a hangover5. Watching your husband in a smokin hot tuxedo run on-stage to win his third Emmy is still spine-tingling6. Having sex three times (oooo! it IS a lucky number) in one day, really goddamn good sex, mind you, is still on the table7. Making small talk is impossible these days. IMPOSSIBLE. I used to be great in a crowd...8. Unlimited champagne for $5 doesn't suck9. Being 6000 miles away from Lincoln was suffocating at times10. Tony Orlando and that friggin song made me cry like a baby